II

"This is caution. Paranoia is when you're wrong."
--Strategist Chelser Eigher, early Sorceress War

"Will Commander Leonhart please come to the Bridge," rang a voice over the intercom, flowing from the ceiling speakers and reverbrating theough the halls. "Repeat, Commander Leonhart to the bridge."

Squall had already been on his way. He stepped out of the elevator, through the ornate glass doorway into what had once been Headmaster Cid's office. The platform leading up to the control console was waiting for him, and he stepped on and toed the pressure panel. (I have yet to remind them to install some handrails,) he thought as the platform jolted, forcing him to make minute adjustments to his balance. Aside from the initial jerk, however, the platform rose smoothly. He stepped off the elevator onto the tiny, de-facto bridge, glancing at Quistis and Xu before turning to the pilot, Nida.

"I thought I assigned you to the Ragnarok," Squall said. Nida shrugged.

"Nobody's using the Ragnarok, sir."

Xu cleared her throat, trying to catch Squall's attention. Squall turned to face her, expression nonexistent. Her face was unusually grave.

"We have a request for SeeD," Xu said, holding up a hand to forestal any questions, "A request made for the Sorceress Team specifically."

"By who?" Squall asked.

Xu's expression darkened imperceptibly. "General Caraway of Deling City," she said. She was about to elaborate but, casting a glance at Quistis, she paused.

(...Rinoa's father,) Squall thought. (Why would he need to hire SeeD?) "Did he say why?" he asked.

"That's the thing," Xu said uneasily. "...it seems someone's kidnapped his daughter."

"What?" Squall snapped almost at once. (Rinoa--kidnapped? How? ...why?) "Why?"

"Nothing's been confirmed," Xu said. "From what I can gather we have only very sketchy information; however, General Caraway wanted to speak to you in person. He may be able to give you a more detailed report. Can I assume you'll be taking the mission?"

"Of course," Squall said, trying to shake the feeling that someone had poleaxed him.

"You had better get the team ready," Xu said. "If you leave now, you might be able to get a jump on... whatever evidence is still present."

Squall nodded. Moving over to the intercom, he pulled out the mic and pressed the tiny red button on the side. "Zell, Selphie, Irvine, report to the Ragnarok," he ordered. He was about to add Immediately!, but he was interrupted by a hand on his shoulder. Quistis's hand was a gentle pressure, her eyes reflecting concern.

(I know how you must feel,) the look said. (We'll get Rinoa back.)

Squall replaced the mic, beckoning for her and Nida to follow him as he stepped onto the elevator platform. It sunk to the floor below rapidly--though not quite fast enough for Squall's tastes. It seemed like wasted time to go down to the second floor, and out to the deck.

The dragonship loomed above the deck-turned-dock, burnished hands tucked beneath strong grappling arms, pointed head thrusting from moulded shoulders. Its eyes, complex sensors, flicked over everything in a complex sequence--everything was recorded and analyzed, everything was watched. Ragnarok never slept.

The ramp was already down, grey stairs leading up into the sterile hangar.

Zell and Selphie came running out the door just as Squall got halfway up the ramp, and Squall turned to watch them as they called for him to wait.

"Yo, Squall!" Zell said, rushing to the base of the ramp and looking up at his friend. "What's going on?"

"I'll explain on the way," Squall said, hiking a thumb at the vessel. He turned and moved up the ramp into the ship, heading toward the bridge. It was a remarkable design--able to traverse the globe with almost nonexistant effort on the behalf of anyone except the pilot. A year and a half ago, having free liscence on an Estharan warship would have rated just below his sudden and utter conversion to Jangoism on the probability scale. But time had a way of changing things in the weirdest of ways...

...he had stepped into the Lunar Gate, casting a glance back at the Ragnarok and wondering how in the names of seven Grandidan Hells was he going to get back if he didn't have it? He was especially not looking forward to a walk back across the intercontinental railroad that had brought him there, now that he was no longer driven by concern for Rinoa--
He had asked the highest-ranking official there if they wanted to claim it--mainly because it could, after all, be called stolen property. The official had snorted indignantly, shaking his head.
"Of course not," he had replied, using much the same tone Squall would have expected if he had asked whether the Estharan Military still used zeppelins. "The thing is twenty years out of date," the man scoffed. "It's hardly worth scrapping for parts. Why do you think we sent it out with Adel's tomb in the first place?"
On that day, he had gained a much greater respect for Eshtharan technology.

"Hey," Irvine called as Squall stepped inside, startling him.

"How did you get here so fast?" Squall demanded.

Irvine shrugged. "Sefie wanted me to fix one of the chairs in the conference room earlier, so--"

"Whatever," Squall snapped, pushing past him without bothering to hear the rest of the answer. "Everyone, meet on the bridge. We have a new mission."

"What?" asked Zell. "Finally! Been too long!"

"Zell," Quistis said softly, pulling him to one side as the rest got onto the lift that would carry them to the bridge. The pressure-sensitive panel in the center automatically rose when Squall stepped on it, just another reminder that even 21-year-old Esthar technology was much better than anything anyone else had at current.

Squall stepped off the lift into the bridge, glancing out the window impatiently as Nida stepped into the copilot's chair and Selphie vaulted into the pilot's seat. "Where're we going?" she asked cheerfully as the lift dropped behind them.

"Deling City," Squall said, refraining from adding as fast as this thing can fly.

"Woo-HOO!" Selphie yelled, making both Irvine and Squall wince. "We're flying again!"

The thought occured to Squall that it might not be the best idea to let her into the air again after an entire year of being out of practice, but a sharp series of jerks, a muffled thud from beneath as the ladder retracted, and the gentle roar of the engines told him in no uncertain terms that it was too late to stop her.

The lift rose again with Quistis and Zell, Zell looking a bit abashed. He opened his mouth to say something, but the look on Squall's face stopped him.

"So what's the mission?" Selphie asked, a bit too enthusiastically.

"She's gone," Squall said. A deathly silence fell across the room.

Irvine, with the distinct feeling he was missing something, looked from Selphie, turned around in her seat, to Zell's grim face, to Nida's grimmer one, to Quistis's worried frown, and finally to Squall's set, determined look.

"Who? Who's gone?" he asked, confused. Everyone turned to stare at him.

"Rinoa," Squall clarified. "We're on our way to Deling City to meet with her father, General Caraway. He believes she may have been kidnapped."

Irvine's mouth formed a silent "o," and he nodded.

"SELPHIE!" Zell yelped, staring out the cockpit's front window. Selphie spun , grabbed the controls, and yanked back--resulting in that the ship barely managed to clear the Balamb Mountain range, coming perilously close to having the lower engines ripped off. The sudden change in angle sent almost everyone on the bridge sliding back into the lift which, reading a sudden increase in weight on the pad, dropped almost immediately. Squall had grabbed onto a chair at Zell's outburst, and was thus the only one still left on the bridge besides Selphie and Nida. His hand found its way to his forehead as the ship righted itself, and the fist pangs of a headache lanced though his brain.

(Only my team,) he thought. He always caught himself marvelling at the apparent incompetence which they could display--until the pressure came down, and the options began to thin. They could run great guns when it mattered--the campaigns a year ago had proved that.

One year ago they had fought the now-historic battle with Ultimecia, the Sorceress from the future trying to create a universe of compressed time in which only she could exist. Their plan had been ludicrous--let her go along with her plan until they could reach her in the future to initiate the final showdown--and the final showdown had come very close to being "final" in a way that nobody except Ultimecia would have wanted. But they had won. With their GF's split amongst the party so that no one would be unarmed, each had been considerably weaker than they would have been in a normal battle. Squall had seen his friends fall around him, be revived by the paramagical Phoenix Downs and Life and Full-Life spells, only to fall again countless times. At times when they lay for too long without treatment, he had watched them dissolve into time until he and Rinoa had been the only ones left to deliver the final blow.

Squall had been almost ready to believe that there was no hope--he was weakening fast, they were both out of curative magic--and nearly all other kinds of magic--Ultimecia's third incarnation seemed not only unhurt but invulnerable. They had run out of the powerful Ultima, Meteor, Flare, and Meltdown spells, and they had to resort to using Firaga, Water, Tornado, and whatever other magic she hadn't blown away. It would have been over if one of them had died, Squall guessed--there was only one way to exist in the future, in a time when existence was technically impossible.

"Believe in your friend's existence, and they'll also believe in yours," President Laguna Loire of Esthar had said before sending them off on what should have been a suicide mission into the future. And if what he had said was the only way to survive in the future, it would have been a feat impossible to perform with one person.

It had come as a a relief when he had seen everyone again when he returned to his own time. Although he would never admit it, Squall had been deeply shaken by the battle. In the final moments, he could see the universe compressing around him, drawn into the exonatural monstrosity Ultimecia had become. How could someone not be shaken? He had witnessed firsthand the nightmare of the universe dying around him.

Even after the campaign had ended, the victory celebrated, he had found himself relying on his friends more and more. He had actually missed Rinoa when she went to work things out with her father--missed her more than he had expected to, and had been more grateful than ever to have his friends' presence around him. In the year before, he woudl have called it a weakening, a lapse--now, he had come to regard it as at attribute, and a strength.

Though there were days...

He only felt a mild annoyance at his team as they stepped off the lift. Instead of saying anything to them, however, he simply moved past them onto the platform and waited impatiently as it sunk. He headed to the hangar, one place he knew he wouldn't be disturbed. He had a lot on his mind, and he needed to think it through. Although, he had the sneaking suspision that thinking about it wouldn't help a great deal. It never had before, anyway.